Wonder of Wonders
by Saberhagens
Summary: "It would be far easier if she were but an empty vessel, the type of pretty candle that lights nought but their own trifling world, fluttering about him at any given chance." Alas, in the words of his grandfather, Richard finds, nothing is ever easy.


_Summary: "It would be far easier if she were but an empty vessel, the type of pretty candle that lights nought but their own trifling world, fluttering about him at any given chance." Alas, in the words of his grandfather, Richard finds, nothing is ever easy._

_This is my first fic for 'Legend of the Seeker', so please, I implore you, be gentle. Spirits know I can be awfully sensitive._

_Disclaimer: They're not my children, I'm merely baby-sitting._

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**WONDER OF WONDERS**

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She is, of course, luminous as always. _"On account of that ridiculous dress, in lieu of a beacon on our path." _Richard could almost hear Cara's mordant remark as if she were there. But the Mord'Sith wasn't there: she has gone off with Zedd down into the city below. Thusly, leaving Richard alone with his Confessor.

He always had hope that each time he sees her again, he has greatly exaggerated it all in his mind, that in truth her eyes are dull and plain, nose overlarge for her face, or that her stride has all the grace of a pregnant sow.

And each time he finds, of course, he is disappointed. She is beautiful, more than really, yet still it is only the most minute part of why he loves her so. It would be far easier if she were but an empty vessel, the type of pretty candle that lights nought but their own trifling world, fluttering about him at any given chance.

Instead… she is the sunrise.

He watches her now like before, seeing her lost in thought, and he sits hoping that it's about him. Then, as if on cue, the Central Council enter and fly toward the Mother Confessor, paying his presence no heed. Richard watches them, delighted in Kahlan's return to Aydindril. They are lucky to have her. Will be luckier still when she resumes her duties.

Still, as they speak of her choosing a mate, he turns away toward the window, with his usual smile, the one that ensures no-one ever looks deeper. When Kahlan addresses their suggestions, Richard forces himself to look back, hoping beyond the hope he knows they haven't ever possessed, that she'll claim him - the Seeker - to sire the next Confessor.

Fortunately, his hope for a future with her had deafened him the moment she agreed to meet some of the chosen candidates.

…

It was all well and good really, his first week in Aydindril, until the morning the Council had gathered all present in the Palace to a meeting. Her instinctive flinch from one of the chancellors was perhaps, not unexpected. Richard is at her side before he understands what he is doing, that he is offering comfort that is no longer his place to give. Both Zedd and Cara had reprimanded him the night prior on said matter, but for their concern, he cared not, for they had also informed him that today would be the day he dreaded most since they had defeated the Keeper.

Kahlan would choose her mate. A man that was not him, to give her a child that would not only succeed her, but also maintain the Confessor's lineage. This man stood opposite the couple, brooding over his own life rather than the woman who would be forced to take it from him, haunted by her actions until the day she dies. And so Richard whispers meaningless nothings into her ear, taking too much pleasure from the way she leans against him, if only for a fleeting moment.

And he has to wonder how soon a mind as bright as Kahlan's will notice the way her Confessor's face is faltering. This is no careless tumble, no mindless comfort, and he swallows. Kahlan will not - has never had to learn - how to sustain her mask. Still, she summons her faultless manners and greets the Prince, and his guts twist to see her, so gracious, so regal.

So ready to be Mother Confessor.

Richard watches her turn, glance over her shoulder at Cara, trying so hard for her normal, soft-spoken tone, but she is trembling, and he would raze the entire city to the ground if it would take that wounded flare from her eyes.

The Seeker takes a deep breath and looks away. He knows his own weakness. Knows he should take himself far from Aydindril. Knows too, that his loyalty to himself is as much a shackle as his helpless love for Kahlan. How can he do this? How can he love her and leave her, yet stay and destroy her? How can he uphold his oath as the Seeker of Truth beneath the weight of all of this?

Because despite it all, he is still only a man in love. And there is, always, some part of him, be it cruel or kind, hidden hoping for something to actually happen between them. To cast aside all propriety, duty and care to just have the one he longs for.

The hall floods with more officials and blue bloods. Zedd and Adie arrive with others, followed by introductions and laughter all round. Richard gathers up every ounce of control he can find and is ready when Kahlan comes to have him escort her to her chambers, smiling his favourite smile, her special one reserved only for him. He can only grip her hand in his own and lead her away from the overbearing crowd.

And then Cara is there, following her friends. The ladies withdraw, needing sometime to themselves and after, Richard knows, the Prince will seek her out. Perhaps this is the moment. Perhaps, tonight, the axe will fall.

A union. A union of duty, not of love, Richard reassures himself. Yet still, it gnaws away at his very soul: a union of undeniable proof that she belongs to another.

Surely though, it would be enough to free him.

Yes, no…

Never.

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_Thank you for reading. Feedback isn't necessary but appreciated._


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